A Hogan's Heroes Christmas Carol
by RowdyClara
Summary: A Hogan's Heroes Christmas Carol
1. Chapter 1

_The following story is a Christmas present to their favorite librarian, Catherine aka "Peanut Butter" and was written by RowdyClara with the collaboration of her younger sister, RedSkyTonighht. We kept some of the original words of Scrooge and the spirits._

**A Hogan's Heroes Christmas Carol**

Written by Dewey, Cheatum & "Boy" Howie Duitt

_Dear Reader, _

_This story is our adaptation of _"A Christmas Carol" _by Mr. Charles Dickens. We have created for your enjoyment another version of that timeless classic. A Hogan's Heroes Christmas Carol. If you have ever seen the popular television series of the 60's, _"Hogan's Heroes", _then you should remember most of our beloved characters. If you haven't, then go watch it. Guaranteed not to disappoint! (Okay, enough with the sales pitch.)_

_As we open the story, we find the senior POW officer, Colonel Hogan, standing before Colonel Klink's desk. The date is Christmas Eve, 1944. The sky is dark and a fair amount of snow is falling outside. The guard dogs are out in their kennels having Christmas dinner. Sgt. Schultz is watching the dogs having their Christmas dinner. The other stalag guards are amusing themselves by writing _"Klink is bucking for rat-fink_" in the snow. The temperature is 32 degrees outside. The-__  
_

Colonel Hogan: Hey, can we get on with the story now?!

_A-hem! So without further ado and with our apologies to Mr. Dickens we shall begin…Lights, music, curtain!_

CHAPTER 1

"But, Kommandant! We-as prisoners of war-have the right to celebrate our national holidays and Christmas happens to be one of them," Colonel Robert E. Hogan demanded. He was standing in Kommandant Klink's office. The drab green walls seemed to match the commandant's mood this evening.

Wilhelm Klink sat at his desk busily scribbling away at some forms set before him on his desk. He looked up momentarily and waved his hand. "Col. Hogan, may I remind you that we at Stalag 13 are very busy and do not have time for such foolishness."

Col. Hogan decided to try another tactic, playing on the good Kommandant's ego. "But, sir, the men have been planning this for months; they had a show all planned and everything. They even wanted me to ask you to play your violin for the opening ceremony."

Klink slammed down his pencil, breaking it in the process, and glared at Hogan through squinted eyes. "The answer is _no_, Colonel Hogan! And _that_ is final. Stupid pencil…"

"Aw, Kommandant, don't be too hard on the pencil. You shouldn't push it so hard." Klink slowly looked, again squinting his eyes.

"Col. Hogan, are _you _implying the _I _am a pencil pusher?"

Col. Hogan shrugged, leaving the unanswered question hanging.

The Kommandant pouted, and grabbed another pencil.

"Sooo…no?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"No!"

"No?"

"Yes!-No-Aaaauugh! Colonel Hogan, what are you doing to me?!"

"Why nothing, sir. You just seem to have a hard time making up your mind."

"Your men will NOT have their Christmas 'party'. I'm expecting an important visitor tomorrow and I would appreciate very much for everyone to be in their barracks in the morning," he took off his monocle and shook his finger at Hogan. "I'm onto your little game, Hogan. I know what you're planning."

"Planning, sir?" Hogan asked innocently.

"Yes! You're planning an escape; not a Christmas party! As soon as your festivities are over, there'll be one or more prisoners missing!"

Hogan put on a look of hurt and removed his hat, placing it over his heart. "Kommandant, you cut me!"

"I'd like to," Klink muttered.

"We wouldn't think of ruining your fine record!" Hogan countered.

"The answer is a firm NO! N-O, no."

"But, Kommandant-" Hogan was interrupted by a large, and rather heavy, sergeant coming into the office.

"Yes, Schultz, what is it?" Klink asked in an exasperated tone, then he turned back to Hogan. "Hogan, you're dismissed."

"But, Kommandant-"

"Dis-missed!"

Hogan turned to go. Schultz leaned toward and whispered, "Bad mood?"

"No, he's friendlier today," Hogan answered wryly.

A few minutes later in Barracks 4, there was a heated argument taking place as Hogan walked in from the chilly night air. Snow swirled about him as he shut the door behind him. The men stopped arguing when they saw Hogan enter. They crowded around him, all of them talking at once.

"Wait a minute! Hold it down, fellas!" Hogan yelled to be heard over the din.

"Well, what'd he say, guv?" Cpl. Peter Newkirk asked, his cockney accent brimming with impatience.

Hogan sat down at the table and sighed. "He said no." The answer was met by choruses of complaints and protests of the injustice they had been served.

"What a bum rap!" Carter griped.

"The dirty _Boche_," muttered the Frenchman LeBeau.

"Yeah, can he do that, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

Hogan shrugged. "He's the kommandant." He got up from his seat abruptly and threw his hat down on the table. "Of all the dirty, rotten breaks!"

"Take it easy, Colonel. We can make do with what we 'ave right 'ere." Newkirk tried to reassure them.

Hogan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, fellas. I know how much you were looking forward to a party." Hogan quietly left to his room in the barracks, shutting the door behind him.

The men all sat down at the table, each lost his in his own thoughts. It was Carter who finally broke the silence. "Isn't this a big howdy do. Well I'm not gonna let Klink spoil my Christmas." He got up and stalked over to his foot locker.

"What are you doin' there, Carter?" Kinch asked.

"I'm lookin' for…Ah! Here they are." He shut his locker and came back to the table carrying a small box.

"What is that junk?" LeBeau questioned.

Carter didn't seem to notice LeBeau's sarcasm. "It's paper and stuff I've been savin'. You know, those posters and notices and stuff the krauts post on the bulletin board. I've been keepin' the colored ones that they take down."

"Well, what are they for, mate?" Newkirk asked, confused.

"We can make paper chains! You know, sorta spruce the place up a bit." Carter dug deeper into the box and brought out several wrinkled posters. "Look, see? Here's some red and green."

"Hey, Louis?" Kinch called to LeBeau who was now reading some of the posters.

"_Oui_?"

"How bout you makin' up a Christmas dinner? We've got enough stuff stashed away to cook up something, don't we?"

LeBeau's face brightened at the thought of cooking something special. He nodded, "_Oui_, I will get started right away." He paused. "What do you think of _escargot_ as an appetizer?"

Klink pulled open the drawer to his desk and shoved several sheets of paper inside. He sighed and got up from his chair. He hoped General Burkhalter would be pleased at how well-kept his office was when he arrived tomorrow.

He left the office building of Stalag 13 and met Schultz on the way out. "Herr Kommandant!"

"What is it, Schultz? I'm tired and I'm in a hurry, so spit it out."

"Herr Kommandant, I was wondering, could I have the night off from guard duty? Just for tonight? I would like to spend Christmas with my nephew, Wolfie. He has been sick."

"Whaaaat!"

"Herr Kommandant, I just thought, it being Christmas Eve and all, that-"

"You thought wrong! We are running a Stalag here not a summer camp!"

"But Herr Komman-"

"Diiiis-Miiiiised!" He saluted Sgt. Schultz, and stomped off to his quarters. Schultz still stood in the same position, with his finger up.

"-dant." He finished.

The thickening layer of snow beneath Klink's boots crunched as he walked to his quarters. He held his riding crop tucked under his right arm as he pulled his coat closer around him. _Prisoners having parties…Bah!_, he thought irritably. When he reached the door of his quarters he found that the door was locked. _I don't remember locking my door… _He fumbled in his coat pocket for the key. Digging it out, he reached forward to stick into the keyhole. He gasped and jumped back at the sight of the doorknob. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. _Did I just see that?_

He chuckled nervously to himself. "Eh he he…No, no. It's impossible. Hogan's getting to me so bad, I thought I saw his face on the doorknob…blowing a raspberry at me." Shaking his head, he sucked in a breath and opened the door. "I need a vacation," he muttered to himself.

Klink entered his residence and shut the door behind him. After making his way to his bedroom and having slipped into his nightclothes and smoking jacket, he came back to the living room and sat down on the cushioned armchair. He sighed in comfort as he propped up his feet on the coffee table. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and proceeded to look for his lighter.

A hand around from behind him and offered a lit match. "Light?"

"Oh why, thank you," Klink answered as his cigar lit. Suddenly his eyes widened as the realization hit him that he was not alone. He froze as a new sound came to his ears. _Clank, clank, clank._ Chains! Klink gulped.

"It's been a long time, Kommandant." A hollow, icy voice said.

"Who is it? Who's there?" Klink demanded in a shaken voice.

Right before Klink's very eyes, a ghostly, nearly-transparent apparition came to stand before him. The ghost's face was thin and his cheeks hollow. His accent belonged to that of English descent. The ghost wore an airman's uniform; his white silk scarf tattered and flying about as if there were a small wind picking it up. Klink recognized the uniform as an British lieutenant's of the last World War. In his thin hands, the ghost held a chain from which he produced the rattling sound.

"Who are you?" Klink asked again. _This must be a bad dream. It has to be!_

"Ask me who I _was_."

"Who _were_ you then?"

"Don't you remember me?" The ghost asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

Klink shook his head.

"In life, I was your prisoner, sir."

A look of confusion came to Klink's face. "_My_ prisoner? I don't recall you."

"Allow me to refresh your memory-" the ghost paused and looked at the seat across from Klink's. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"Can you - can you sit down?" Klink asked, dubiously. He didn't know whether ghosts - or whatever this stranger was - had the ability to sit down.

"Quite."

"Then do it."

The ghost took the seat and another small smile came to him. "You don't believe in me."

"I'm not sure…I mean, of course not! After all, I did eat sauerkraut and pancakes for breakfast. You could be the consequence of an upset stomach."

For a moment, the ghost looked rather offended. "Hmmm…let us see how well your memory is, shall we, Kommandant? It was the year 1916. I was one of your prisoners."

"But I wasn't here-"

"Silence!" The ghost boomed. "I am not finished. Perhaps you remember my name. I am Lieutenant Thomas Reed." No recognition showed on Klink's countenance. "You don't remember?" Nothing. "Nevertheless, the fact remains that you were, and most probably still are, a very cruel and wicked kommandant Therefore, you are being offered a second chance to correct your evil ways before it is too late. Do you understand?"

Klink shook his head.

The ghost let out an exasperated sigh. "You're dumber than I recall," he muttered. Reed's ghost rose and floated away from the chair, making his way toward the window. "Come here to the window."

Reluctantly, Klink went to the window and stood beside the ghost.

"Look outside," the ghost commanded.

What Klink saw outside his window almost made him faint dead away. He steadied himself by gripping the windowsill. Outside - moaning about in the stalag - were more spirits. The ghosts of German officers moaning piteously and being made to march on by the ghosts of Allied soldiers. Klink noted that most of them wore old, tattered uniforms from World War I.

"What happened to them?" Klink asked in a small, frightened voice, inquiring about the German soldiers.

"Those men you see there were men just like yourself. Most of them Kommandants such as yourself. You'll most likely end up just like them. The Allied soldiers were their prisoners."

"Why do _you_ carry a chain then?"

The ghost shrugged. "Special effects. I get better results."

Klink bit his nails and quickly turned away from the window to face Reed's ghost. "But I'm a good Kommandant!"

"Of course. Of course you are. But what do the prisoners think of you, hm?" He didn't wait for an answer as he continued. "As I said, I'm here to let you know that you are being given a second chance."

"Oh thank you! What shall I do?" Klink asked, eager not to be in the same position as his predecessors.

"Tonight, you will be visited" - for no apparent reason there was a thunderclap and a flash of lightning - "by three Spirits."

Klink's face fell. "Is that the only way?"

"It is, sir."

"I - I think I'd just as soon not."

"Without their visits, you will be doomed. You will expect the first tomorrow when the clock strikes one."

"Couldn't I take them all at once and have it all over and done with?" Klink pleaded.

The ghost of Lt. Thomas Reed ignored Klink's plea. "The second will come the next night at the same hour, and the third the next night when the last-" The ghost stopped in mid-sentence and pulled a paper out of his pocket. Klink had trouble reading the title in the dim light, but before the ghost put it away he made out the name "Charles Dickens". After reading it briefly and then looking as if he were trying to memorize something, the ghost spoke once more, "-when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate. "

And with that, the ghost backed away and left by the window. "Goodbye, Kommandant Mueller! Your goose bumps can relax now. I wish you luck."

_Kommandant Mueller? My goodness, he's mistaken me for the previous kommandant of Stalag 13!, _Klink thought with horror.

Curiosity overtaking his fear, Klink hurried to look out the window. Klink watched as the ghost of Thomas Reed fell in place with his fellow soldiers; and as Klink was watching them, the ghosts began marching until it seemed as thought they simply vanished - faded, rather - into the night. Quite suddenly, all was quiet. Shivers crawled up Klink's spine as he quickly shut the window and locked it. "Stuff and nonsense!" He said to himself. Before heading to his room, though, he barred the front door.

In his bedroom, Kommandant Klink stood in front of a small mounted mirror, perfecting the position of his nightcap on his bald head, humming and trying to settle his nerves. After making a couple of faces in the mirror, and playing with the pom-pom on the end of his nightcap, he laid his monocle on the night stand, and went to bed. Klink finally drifted into a restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

When Klink awoke, his room was pitch black and he couldn't make out the time on the cuckoo clock. He lay in bed waiting for the bird to tell him the hour. He listened and was surprised when the bird _cuckooed _once…and then stopped. It couldn't be. Klink rubbed his eyes and tried to peer through the darkness to see the window of his room. _I went to bed at two! I can't have slept through a whole day!_ He thought in horror. _I'm expecting the General!_

He quickly got out of bed and slipped his bedroom slippers on. First, he went to the window. All was quiet. Then he went to his cuckoo clock to see if it was in any way damaged. Nothing. He gulped and immediately thought of Reed's ghost and his warning.

_**We interrupt this story to deliver a brief message. **_

_One thing you must know, dear reader, is that Colonel Klink is a coward. A chicken. Yellow-bellied. He's afraid of nearly everything and is sometimes what you might call a "wimp". In other words, you may find him stammering and whimpering a lot throughout his experiences. _

_**We now return you to your regular story. Thank you.**_

Klink's eyes darted around the room before he dived under his covers. The covers quivered and a whimper emitted from beneath them. Klink froze as a corner of his blanket was lifted by a small hand. Klink yelped and tried to burrow further into his covers, but the hand yanked the covers away.

Klink risked a peek and opened his eyes a slit. Standing beside his bed was a strange-looking individual. He was small in stature, like that of a child. At the same time he resembled an old man with his long white hair. But Klink noted that he had no wrinkles. Very strange indeed. The ghost also wore a pure white tunic and in his hand he held a fresh sprig of holly.

"Are - are you the spirit I was warned of?"

The stranger laughed lightly. His laugh reminded Klink of the tinkling of bells. "Warned? My goodness, you'd think I was some sort of burglar or something." The ghost's voice sounded as if it were at a distance instead of so near to Klink's bedside. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Past," he answered Klink's question.

"But that Englishman Lieutenant Reed made some mistake, you see_. I'm_ not Kommandant Mueller! He was Kommandant before I took command here. So you can forget the whole thing and go on back to wherever you came from, alright?" Klink started to pull his covers back over himself.

The ghost stopped him by grabbing hold of the covers again. "I know you're not Mueller, Colonel Klink."

"You - you do?"

The ghost nodded. "Because, you see, I took Kommandant Mueller for his little joy ride last year. Reed _did_ make a mistake."

"But why are you here then?"

"Well, I get a commission for every Kommandant or miser or what-have-you that I take through their past; if they learn their lesson. Since you haven't had your turn yet I decided to go ahead and give you yours. After all, you're already on our schedule for next year," The ghost said, smiling. "Well are you ready?" The ghost asked holding out his hand.

Seeing no way out of it, Klink took the ghost's hand. "Let me get my monocle." Klink picked up his monocle from the nightstand and put it on. "Where are we going?" he asked the ghost.

"The past, Colonel Klink. Your past." The ghost led Klink toward one wall of the bedroom; and though Klink tried to pull away, they kept walking toward the wall.

Klink started to protest. "But I can't walk through-" The stalag; his bedroom; everything vanished. "-walls," he finished, after they went straight through the wall. Klink looked around to see a small cottage in the middle of a large field. "I know this place!"

"Yes, this is where you were born."

Klink's countenance took on a dreamy look. "Ah yes. It was in February 1903 on Friday the 13th."

A rush of memories long forgotten came back to Klink as he looked upon the familiar surroundings. The meadow, now covered in snow, across the way from the house with the solitary tree standing in the middle. The house in which he had been born and had spent his early years was a small place but it held many memories for Klink.

"Shall we see the rest of the town?" The ghost asked.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"Do you remember the way?"

"I could never forget!"

They walked along down the road into the small village. There was a cheery atmosphere around them as they began to enter the outskirts of the village. Several children ran by laughing, a small dog chasing at their heels barking joyously and joining in the fun. A horse-drawn sleigh passed them, the horse's harness bells jingling as he trotted on.

Klink looked around, his eyes filled with excitement at the familiar sights. Several people passed by them whom he recognized but it was as if they did not see him. When Klink inquired about this, the ghost answered, "They are only ghosts of the past and have no consciousness of our presence."

"Why, there's the school where I went to as a boy!"

"Yes. But it is not empty. There is still a child inside left alone."

Klink nodded uncomfortably, knowing who it was. Reluctantly, he followed the ghost to up the hill toward the schoolhouse. When they reached the top of the hill, they entered the school and there, sitting alone at one of the desks, was a much younger Wilhelm Klink.

The ghost and Klink stood by as the following scene unfolded before them. Two other boys entered the schoolhouse and began walking past the smaller boy. "Hey, four-eyes!" One of them called to the boy at the desk.

The boy ignored them and picked up the book he had been reading at his desk. As he ran out of the schoolhouse, the two other boys laughed and jeered mockingly after him.

"You were always the…eh…_timid_ one as a child, weren't you, Colonel?"

"Can we please go now?" Klink inquired.

The ghost nodded and suddenly they were at another setting familiar to Klink. Another familiar scene from his past. This time, they were inside a small business place. A glass counter with rows and rows of Christmas pastries, breads, and cakes lay before them. A garland was strung above the door, and hanging just below the garland was a wreath with a bright red ribbon tied on it. The aroma of freshly baked goods met Klink's nose as they walked toward the counter where an older man and a young boy were talking. "I remember! I remember this place too! I had my first job here. I helped the baker and delivered packages for him."

They listened to the boy and the baker talk. "Wilhelm, I know you like to help but please stay out from underfoot."

"Oh, it's quite alright, Herr Reinhardt. I don't mind."

Mr. Reinhardt sighed and leaned on the counter with his head in his hands.

"What's the matter, Herr Reinhardt? Are you ill? Shall I fetch the doctor?"

"No! No, I - I just…Wilhelm, why don't you go home for the day? I'll send word for you again when I need you."

"Are you sure, Herr Reinhardt?"

"Oh I'm _very_ sure. Now run along."

"But if you need help-"

"- I'll send word for you…a hundred years from now," he added under his breath.

"What was that, Herr Reinhardt?"

"I said, I'll see you soon. Güten Mörgen, Wilhelm."

Klink's face fell as he remembered something. "He never _did _call for me again after that," he told the ghost in a puzzled voice.

The ghost cleared his throat. "Shall we see another Christmas, Kommandant?" he asked. Again, the scene vanished and was replaced with another. "Here we are at the Klink family home. The year here is 1928. It should be very familiar to you."

Klink brightened and nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes, I know."

Their new location was in the library of the Klink family's home. A large, sturdy wood desk was placed in the center of the library. Sitting at the desk was Klink's father. Standing on the side opposite his father was Klink at the age of 25.

The father leaned back in his chair and spoke. "Wilhelm, the reason I called you here is because I want to ask you something."

"Yes, father?"

"Have you given any thought to the career you wish to pursue?"

The son shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Well…I've asked about work at the newspaper and-"

"The newspaper? Bah! Do you recall what happened the last time you were near a printing press?"

"Yes, sir."

"You set the presses back two weeks. Two weeks it took them to repair the damage to the press and get everything organized again!" The father paused. "Have you thought of the military?"

"No, sir."

"Well there you are then! The army would be perfect for you, Wilhelm! You can't be a baker, you can't be near a printing press, nor horses for that matter; You aren't good for _anything, _so why don't you join the army?"

"This Christmas was where my military career began," Klink informed the ghost. "It turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me! Did _you_ know that Stalag 13 has the best record among all the other stalags? Not a single successful escape-"

"Yes, I know all that," the ghost interrupted him. "Come, there's something else I want to show you."

Now they were in a different house and now there was a young woman with Klink. They sat on a sofa as they conversed with one another. "Why, that's - that's -"

"¾ Hilda Grunwald," the ghost finished for him.

Suddenly Klink became very anxious. "Can we skip this one?"

The ghost didn't answer but listened instead to the conversation that was taking place.

"What's happened to you, Wilhelm?" The woman asked.

"Whatever do you mean? I'm the same man I always was. Well…maybe a bit more successful, but still the one and only _Colonel _Klink," he said happily, emphasizing his new rank.

"You see? That's exactly what I mean!"

"What?" Klink asked her, confused.

"You've become so…so arrogant and boastful. Not at all like you once were."

Klink looked offended at the statement as she went on speaking. "So I'm afraid I'll have to say 'no' to your proposal, Wilhelm." She got up from the sofa. "I'm sorry, Colonel. I hope you are happy with the life you have chosen." She left Klink sitting on the sofa, open-mouthed and stunned.

"Please, spirit! Take me home! I don't want to see any more," Klink pleaded with the ghost.

"These are only scenes from the past. We can't change them."

"Take me back home and haunt me no more! I just want to go-" Klink, very quickly, was overtaken by a sudden exhaustion as a swirling mist surrounded them and the previous scene vanished. The Spirit of Christmas Past was gone and Klink was back in his room. He managed to make it to his bed before falling into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

_Bang! _Col. Klink jumped up and grabbed his monocle. He put it on and looked over to where the loud bang had come from, wide-eyed. It was the window. A heavy-weight man was coming in the window…or at least he was _trying_.

"Oops." He smiled, looking over to Klink, then went back to the struggle of getting in. The man was wearing a long green robe, and a holly garland on his head. He didn't have much hair, but what he had was white. And last but not least he carried a rifle…but it was empty and very rusty.

Klink cocked his head and again squinted his eyes, as he watched. _Clod_, Klink thought to himself. Now he saw it. The shutter had slammed against the building when the 'clod' came in.

A burst of cold air came in (along with enough snowflakes to make a DQ frosty). Klink shivered, and burrowed under his covers. Partially because he was cold and partially out of fear. He was peeking over the covers though, watching the stranger. Then it hit him. The strange, fat man closely resembled Sgt. Schultz! Not to mention he was even acting like him.

The man picked up his rifle after it had fallen on the floor, and then proceeded towards Klink, with a smile on his jolly red face. He only trotted about three or four steps, before he turned around still smiling, and closed the window. Then he went again to Klink, with the same goofy smile.

Klink pulled the covers up more. "Who are you?" He asked in a shaky voice.

"_I_ am the Ghost of Christmas present!" The man replied, emphasizing his 'I', and rolling his r's just like a certain sergeant at Stalag 13 named Schultz.

"Whaaaat?"

"I said, 'I _am the Ghost of Christmas Pre-_"

"I know! I know!" Klink interrupted.

"Ah." The spirit mumbled. He wasn't smiling anymore. He looked annoyed at Klink's snappy interruption.

Just then, the cuckoo clock made its hourly call. The Ghost of Christmas Present listened as it cuckooed once and then stopped. He smiled and gave a small chuckle. "I'm a little early, no?"

"Oh, just a little." Klink nodded, irritatedly.

He chuckled again. "I am new on this job and I am supposed to come _after_ the clock says it is one o'clock."

"Now…" He sighed, as he pulled out some sheets of paper from his costume. Several different expressions appeared on his face, as he read it to himself; and finally, he looked back up at Klink. "I was supposed to wait in the other room." He smiled slightly, and chuckled. "My father always said, 'If you are going to do something, do it right!'"

"Yes," Klink nodded, still irritated, "and have you ever heard of 'Do it right the first time'?".

The spirit left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Not a second later, he opened the door and closed it again behind him. He then turned around and walked _through _the door. Klink's eyes widened and he whimpered as the ghost performed the action.

Not long after, a light came on in the other room, shining through to Klink's room from the bottom of the door.

"What _is_ this?!" Klink whined. He got up out of his bed, put his slippers on and slowly walked over to the door where the light had come from.

He grabbed the door handle and swung the door opened, only to see the spirit waving a flashlight back and forth, with the light to the bottom of the door. Klink was dumbfounded. The spirit looked bored, but gave a nervous smile when he looked up to see Klink.

There was rustling of paper and then the spirit's voice. "Come in and know me better," he said the words in a staccato manner as if he were reading something.

Klink stepped through the door and the spirit spoke again, "Perhaps we should have more light." The spirit flipped on the flashlight. "Oh," he chuckled smiling, "sorry." He ambled over to the wall where the light switch was and flipped it on. He looked at Klink again. "I just got it," he explained holding up the flashlight.

Instead of the living room that should have been on the other side of the door, it was Klink's bedroom. But it was very different. All around him were greeneries, and so much food! Strudel, wiener schnitzel, apple pie, American chocolate, and so many different cakes; different dishes with meats and vegetables were also arranged neatly about the room. There were so many foods, that there were a number of them that he didn't recognize.

The spirit seemed to be having the time of his life though. He was taking pinches of this, pinches of that, and shoving it all into his mouth. A happy grin was plastered on his round face. Klink noted the blissful look as well.

The spirit groaned happily as he ate. "Oh, I'm in heaven!"

Klink cleared his throat. "Don't you have a job?"

The spirit tore his loving gaze away from the foods. "Hm? Oh yes," he chuckled, "I lost myself for a minute." The spirit pulled another paper out of his green robe.

"What's that?" Klink asked.

The spirit turned the paper around a couple of times. "Which way is right side-? Ah here we are." Then he spoke to Klink, "It is a map of where we will be stopping tonight."

"Where are we going?" Klink leaned forward trying to see what was on the paper.

The spirit hugged the paper against himself and then waved a finger at Klink. "You are not supposed to see this. It is not in the script."

"Script?"

Klink caught the look in the spirit's eye before the room disappeared. It was the classic look of 'the-boy-who-got-caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar'.

They were in a place not familiar to Klink this time. It was friendly-looking home with a fire roaring the fireplace, several people chatting at one end of the room and some children playing at the other end.

"Where are we?" Klink asked.

"This is the home of your Sgt. Schultz's sister. The little boy you see over there stealing…eh, _borrowing_ those cookies from the coffee table is Schultz's little nephew, Wolfgang."

"WOLFIE!" A woman's voice boomed.

Wolfgang startled and looked behind him at the woman. "Put them back."

"Yes, mama," the boy sighed and put the cookies back.

"You know we're saving those for Uncle Hans." The woman wrung her hands and peered out the window. "Oh I wonder what's taking him so long."

While she looked out the window, Wolfie grabbed a cookie and shoved it into his mouth. She quickly spun around to face Wolfie, his mouth full of cookies. She looked at the plate of cookies, and then back at Wolfie.

"Wolfie!"

"Mm?" His mouth still full of cookies, he couldn't speak.

"The cookies!"

"Mm!"

"There were more than that just a minute ago!"

"Mmm?"

"You took some behind my back didn't you!"

"Hm-mm!" He shook his head.

Just then the front door burst open, with snow flying in every which way. It was Cpl. Langenshneidt. Wolfie's mother ran over to the door and shut it.

"W-where's Hans?" She asked.

"Well…he-" Langenshneidt was cut off, in his reply.

"Oh! He's still outside, is that it?" A smile spread across her face.

"No, ma'am-" She had turned and opened the door. She went half-way out in search of her brother. He was no where to be found. She then walked slowly back inside and closed the door, looking confused at Langenshneidt.

"I don't understand…where's Hans? Isn't he coming?"

"No, ma'am." Langenshneidt replied sadly. "Kommandant Klink refused to give Sgt. Shultz the night off of guard duty. That's why I am here. Sgt. Shultz sent me to tell you."

Everyone gathered around, hearing the news. All with concerned and disappointed looks on their faces. Wolfie gulped down the cookies that he had stuffed in his mouth and his eyes began filling with tears. Uncle Hans was his favorite uncle and he didn't get to see him very often.

Wolfie's mother let out a growl of frustration. "Oh! That Kommandant!" Then her shoulders sagged and she let out a sigh. "I suppose nothing can be done about it now though. Would you like to stay and celebrate with us, Corporal?"

Cpl. Langenschneidt shook his head. "I'm sorry, Frau. But I am needed back at camp. Goodnight to you and merry Christmas!" He left, closing the door behind him.

Wolfie choked out a small sob, but then started coughing fiercely.

"Oh, Wolfie…I think it best you go to bed now. The doctor said you were to get plenty of rest."

Wolfie nodded and dragged an arm across his face, trying to hide his tears.

"This is terrible!" Klink told the ghost. "I had no idea Schultz was so needed among his family…Tell me, spirit, about the little boy Wolfie. Will he get better?"

"I see an empty bed and a broken-hearted family."

"No! Say he'll live."

The ghost shook his head sadly. "If the shadows I see remain the same and unaltered by the Future, he will not live."

Klink hung his head and thought about how rude he had been to Schultz when the sergeant had asked for night off. When he raised his eyes again, they were no longer in the Schultz's sister's home. They were at a place very, VERY familiar to Klink.

"This is one of the barracks at Stalag 13! Hogan's Barracks! What are we doing here? Why did you bring me here? Why are they still up? Lights out was hours ago!"

"Shhh! I want to hear what they are saying."

The entire barracks were strewn with tacky-looking paper chains, made with old candy wrappers and posters. LeBeau was standing over a small pot on the potbellied stove. He opened the lid and sniffed it a couple of times, and then began stirring more. Carter was sitting at the table trying unsuccessfully to thread a needle.

The door opened and Kinch and Newkirk came in holding something between them. Klink gasped when he saw one of the bushes from in front of his office. Except it wasn't in front of his office anymore. "Those fiends!" The bush was now in a large bowl as the two prisoners set it on the table.

"We couldn't find a tree so we snitched one of the Kommadant's bushes," Kinch told Carter.

Newkirk waved a finger at Kinch. "Ah ah ah! I prefer the word '_borrowed'_, Kinch, me boy."

Kinch just chuckled and went over to LeBeau to sniff the food.

In a matter of minutes Newkirk and Carter had the bush decorated with ornaments of foil fashioned into shapes of angels and stars. "Now for the finishing touch," Newkirk announced. He produced a larger star and place at the top of the bush. "There we are, the star of Bethlehem."

"Gee, that's swell, Newkirk! Where'd you get it?" Carter asked, admiring the topper.

Newkirk shrugged and brushed his fingernails on his jacket. "Let's say _it_ found _me _and keep it at that." He smiled.

"You _stole_ it?!"

Newkirk laughed. "No, I just wanted to see your reaction, mate. Kinch there made it."

"Hey, thanks for the star, Kinch!" Carter said to Kinch.

Just then, Colonel Hogan came out of his room. "Alright what's all this racket? Can't a guy get any sl-" His voice trailed off when he noticed the vast transformation of the barracks. "What-?"

"You like it, Colonel?" Carter asked grinning.

"Well, it's- it's…" - he stared at the mess of paper chains and foil - "It's something alright."

"Aye, that's right. It sure is, ain't it, sir?" Newkirk said proudly surveying the room.

Hogan was nodding slowly when his eyes fell on the bush in its makeshift pot on the table. "_What _is that?"

"Oh that? Well it's just a little something me and Kinch picked up, that's all."

"That's _all?_"

"Right, sir."

"Uh-huh. And I suppose it just _happened_ to be already dug out of the ground, right?"

"Eh…well, sir, me and Kinch just _happened_ to have stumbled across a shovel, sir. The poor little guy was just begging us to take him in out of the cold, so we thought we'd oblige 'im."

"Uh-huh," Hogan nodded, skeptically. Then he went over to where LeBeau was cooking. "And what have we here?"

"_Mon Colonel,_ prepare to be amazed," he picked up a plate filled with something. "For the appetizer we have _escargot_" - Hogan made a face at the thought of eating snails. LeBeau didn't notice and went on - "and for dessert I have some strudel prepared."

The ghost sighed and elbowed Klink. "Mmmmm, strudel," he whispered dreamily.

"Well now, I say we sing a couple of carols to get our appetite up, what do you say, fellas?"

A cheer went up. One of the men brought a harmonica from his pocket and began to play an intro; Hogan began with, "A one and two, and three and four…"

"_Silent night, holy night_

_All is calm, all is bright_

_Round yon virgin mother and child_

_Holy infant so tender and mild_

_Sleep in Heavenly peace_

_Oh, sleep in Heavenly peace_

_Silent night, holy night_

_Shepherds quake at the sight_

_Glory streams from Heaven afar_

_Heavenly hosts sing alleluia_

_Christ the Savior is born_

_Christ the Savior is born"_

When the song was finished, Klink sniffed and began to clap as the last strains of the tune faded away. "Beautiful, beautiful!"

"Yes, it was. And so is that strudel but we must go now, my time is growing short."

"Oh, but can't we stay just a little while longer?"

The ghost shook his head. "No, Kommandant. You still have an appointment with one more spirit."

"Oh yes…about that last spirit. I really don't think-" Before Klink could finish, the barracks and everyone around him disappeared and the area was plunged into total and utter darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Klink gulped and looked nervously around him; not that he could see anything. "Sp-spirit?" Somewhere in the darkness, a bell tolled. It struck twelve.

"Hello?" Klink called out in a small, frightened voice. "Spirit?"

A cold chill ran up his spine when a finger tapped his shoulder from behind him. "YIPE!" He jumped and turned to face who had tapped him. Standing behind him was figure wearing a black cloak with the hood covering the ghost's face. A dagger hung on his hip. (Pun fully intended. Get it? "Cloak and dagger"? Eh heh heh…*crickets chirp*…ahem yes, well…)

"Are-are y-you the third spirit? The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come?" Klink stuttered.

The ghost nodded.

"And you're going to show me what hasn't happened yet?"

Another nod.

"Can't you talk?"

"Yeah, but I ain't supposed to, bud. It says so in my script," the ghost had a gravelly voice and reminded Klink somewhat of a gangster he had seen in one of the captured American movies. "I's supposed to be a real frightenin' character. And If I don't talk it's supposed to make me even scarier."

"But you just did."

"Just did what?"

"Talked!"

"Oh…Oh! Eh heh, whoops. Forget I said anything, pal." The ghost cleared his throat and assumed a new position. He stood very straight with one arm outstretched, a single finger pointing forward. He began marching away from Klink, still pointing his finger.

"Where are you going? Am I supposed to follow?" Klink got no answer to his question so he hurried to catch up with the ghost.

The building seemed to spring up around them. It was a very elegant dining room and at one end of the table sitting in a high back chair was…

"The Führer!" Klink gasped. Another man was sitting at the other end. A large, portly man wearing a Nazi General's uniform. "And General Burkhalter!"

Klink listened to the conversation passing between Adolf Hitler and General Burkhalter.

"He died this morning, mein Führer," Burkhalter stated.

"Bah! He was a pest anyway. He was always suspected of sabotage and of being a traitor by the Gestapo. Good riddance, I say!"

"Yes, I know what you mean."

The scene changed quickly. Now Klink and the ghost stood in Schultz's sister's home. The atmosphere was dull and dreary. Not at all like it was the last time Klink had been there with the last spirit. It didn't take Klink but a second to notice what was wrong. Wolfie was not there. His mother wore her mourning clothes and she was crying.

The scene changed again. _This spirit must be on a tight schedule,_ Klink thought dryly. They were back at Hogan's barracks at Stalag 13 again. Schultz was talking to the men. "Schultz! You're not supposed to fraternize with the prisoners!" Klink yelled before remembering that he couldn't be seen nor heard.

"So the old buzzard kicked the bucket, eh?" Newkirk was saying.

"Please, Newkirk! Don't speak of the dead like that. It is _mean_," Schultz reprimanded him.

"Wonder what killed him," Kinch thought aloud.

LeBeau snorted. "Probably his own meanness. Imagine! Not letting Schultzy go for one night." LeBeau patted Schultz's stomach.

Schultz shrugged. "I don't know but his replacement is coming tomorrow morning."

Klink said to the spirit, "I think I understand. I will end up like this man these people are talking about. Unloved and forgotten. Is that right?"

The spirit made no indication of hearing Klink's question and he began walking again. They walked out the barrack's door. But instead of stepping out into the stalag yard, they were in another home. This one Klink had never seen before. It was homey-looking place though. Up on a shelf were photographs of, Klink assumed, the family who lived here.

There was laughter coming from another room where the ghost was pointing. Klink slowly went toward the room and looked inside. To his surprise, there was Hogan of all people, standing in the middle of the sitting room, and he was wearing civilian clothes! He looked a little bit older but Klink couldn't mistake him for anyone else. Gathered together on the sofa were three young children. Two boys and a girl.

"…And that's what he was like." Hogan finished.

"Who? Who?!" Klink asked, even though nobody could hear him. _I hate missing the whole story and only hearing the end._

"Wow! Did he ever find out about the spyin' and stuff?"

Hogan shook his head. "Nope. Though he did come close from time to time. He died on Christmas Eve hated by all his men."

"Gee, that's awful."

"And on Christmas Eve?" The girl asked.

"Yup."

"Spirit, I've seen enough. I know what will happen if I don't change. But I _am_ changed! I listened to all three of you and I've changed my ways!" Klink told the spirit.

Again, the spirit said nothing and the scene around them change once more. This time they were outdoors. It was dark, cold and dreary. Then Klink saw the stones. The gravestones. "YIIIIPE!" He yelped and jumped into the spirit's arms.

"Hey, what's da big idea?" The spirit dropped him and huffed. He straightened his cloak and then pointed in a new direction.

Klink rubbed his back and got up off the hard ground where the spirit had dropped him. "What's over there?"

The spirit continued pointing.

Klink walked cautiously to where the spirit had pointed. There was a small stone there, uncared for and surrounded by overgrown weeds and grasses. The spirit walked up and stood beside Klink.

"Whose grave is it?"

The spirit leaned over and whispered to Klink. "Ya gotta clear dem weeds and stuff."

"Oh." Klink bent down and began clearing 'dem weeds and stuff'. He uncovered the first name. 'Wilhelm' it read. Klink chuckled nervously. "This man had the same first name as me."

When he finished removing the weeds he gasped when he read the whole name. Everything before him went black.

"Hey! Hey, Klinky boy! Wake up! Ya wasn't supposed to faint!"

Klink groaned and opened his eyes. "What happened?"

"Now dere's a corny line. Ya fainted, bud."

Suddenly, Klink was wide awake. He grabbed the spirit by his cloak. "Tell me! Tell me I read that stone wrong!"

"Uh…I can't read, mister."

"Oh…"

"But I know it's supposed to say your name."

Klink whimpered and bit his nails, looking at the gravestone. Then he turned back to the spirit. "Oh no! No, spirit!"

"You can call me Ralph."

"Ralph! I'll remember the lessons that all three of the spirits have shown me." Klink had still been grasping the spirit's cloak and had closed his eyes. When he opened them he was back in his room and clutching his blanket tightly. It was morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Klink looked around his room taking in his surroundings. "I'm-I'm home! HOME!" He yelled happily and scrambled out of bed, slipping his bedroom slippers on his feet.

He put his coat on over his pajamas and went outside. Schultz was walking by whistling 'It's A Big Wide Wonderful World' and gazing lovingly at a piece of strudel that he held in his hand.

"Schultz! There's my favorite sergeant!"

"I didn't do it! What-_ever_ it was I did _not_ do it, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz yelled back. He quickly shoved the strudel in his mouth so Klink wouldn't see it.

"Schultz! You can have the entire day off! In fact take _two _days off!"

Schultz's jaw dropped but he quickly shut it to prevent the strudel from falling out. He swallowed. "Kommandant? Do you _want_ me to get the doctor?"

Klink laughed and slapped his knee. "Oh doctor schmoctor! I feel great, Schultz! Tell me, before you go, what day is it?"

"And he feels great?" Schultz thought aloud. Then he answered Klink's question, "It is Christmas Day, Herr Kommandant."

"They did it all in one night too!"

"_Who_ did _what_ all in one night?"

"Nevermind, Schultz, nevermind. Go see Wolfie and your sister. Oh and take this with you. Buy the biggest ham you can find." Klink ran off his porch and handed Schultz a pouch full of money.

"_Jawhol_, Herr Kommadant! And thank you!" Schultz started merrily making his toward the main gate before Klink's mood could changed.

"And merry Christmas, Schultz!" Klink rubbed his hands and together and started toward Hogan's barracks.

He burst through the door without warning. Carter and Newkirk rushed quickly to the side of the bunk at one end of the room. Klink heard something slam shut but thought nothing of it. He was in too good of a mood!

"Where is Hogan?" he asked.

Hogan came out of his room. "Right here. What's all the hullabaloo?" Hogan looked at Klink, night cap, bunny slippers and all.

"Hogan, I had the most amazing experience; you would never believe it!" Klink said. "Oh and, Hogan, your children are adorable!"

"Children?"

"And I really don't mind about you men digging up my bush."

"Your bush? Why whatever are you talkin' about, sir?" Newkirk asked, innocently.

"Don't worry about me being mad because I'm not." Klink smiled. "I just came over to tell you all merry Christmas! And I'm going to send Corporal Langenschneidt into town to pick up a ham for your party."

Peeking in through the barracks window, unseen by the men inside, the three spirits looked on smiling. The Ghost of Christmas Present high-fived the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come at the sight of what had been accomplished.

An hour or so later after being sent after the ham, Langenschneidt returned, arms filled with groceries. Klink celebrated with the prisoners that Christmas day and even gave a violin recital that evening as part of the show they put on.

Wolfie was ecstatic that his Uncle Hans Schultz showed up. And he was even more ecstatic that Schultz gave him a large helping of his cookies. Yes, it was very merry Christmas for all indeed.**Historical Note: **Christmas did not still have the same meaning to the Nazis as it does to us or our characters in the story. In our story we left this fact out;

"Nazi ideologists claimed that the Christian elements of the holiday had been superimposed upon ancient Germanic traditions. They argued that Christmas Eve originally had nothing to do with the birth of Jesus Christ, but instead celebrated the winter solstice and the 'rebirth of the sun', and that the swastika was an ancient symbol of the sun.

The Christmas tree was also changed. The traditional names of the tree, _Christbaum_ or _Weihnachtsbaum_, was renamed in the press as fir tree, light tree or Jul tree. The star on the top of the tree was sometimes replaced with a swastika, a Germanic "sun wheel" or a _Sig rune_. During the height of the movement, an attempt was made to remove the association of the coming of Jesus and replace it with the coming of Adolf Hitler, referred to as the "Saviour Führer".

Christmas carols were also changed. The words to "Silent Night" were changed so it made no reference to God, Christ and religion. Words were also changed to the hymn "Unto Us a Time Has Come" so as to remove references to Jesus.**" **

_- from Wikipedia_

_We hope you enjoyed our little story and that you remember the true meaning of Christmas. Celebrate Christmas by giving to those who _really_ need it!_

_God bless and have wonderful, blessed Christmas!_


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